Monday, August 24, 2009

path of the warrior

okay, I'm joking when I call myself a warrior.joking slightly less when I call myself a princess warrior.being most honest when I call myself a barely-survived-it-almost-a-warrior-but-still-a-wannabe.all right, I'm a warrior, but just by the skin of my teeth.[an aside: I just looked up the origin of that phrase, which is biblical, and it's actually with the skin of my teeth, and we just take it to mean avoiding disaster/catastrophe/devastation by the very narrowest of margins. I know you knew that, but I was curious.]

it was a ride.full of climbing up and sailing down, climbing back up and sailing (and braking) down, a bit of just over, more climbing, and then just grinding away at speeds close to zero, using just about every last ounce of stamina I had left in my salt covered body.geez.I was not a pretty sight by the end. and I didn't really care.

this is what gets me. I ride a lot. I ride hard rides. I've ridden a 206-mile course twice. I've climbed 10,000 feet during a 100-mile ride before, probably a handful of times or more. and at least two other times I have had to face a grueling 6-mile climb after riding over 100 miles.so why was this thing so darn hard?I don't know.but I had to stop, two separate times, on that 6-mile climb up little cottonwood canyon. both times I knew I would continue, but I just needed to stop. both times I watched my heart rate drop a mere 30 beats and just sit there, refusing to budge off that shelf and settle lower.I was not alone.john describes it as carnage on the side of the road: cyclists stopped, standing, sitting, throwing up, walking their bikes, displaying pure misery with every facial muscle.I am laughing as I type this, as I reflect on what drives us to do this to ourselves.

little cottonwood is a canyon I choose not to ride up very often. in fact, once a year is what I've done the past two years. this year I've already done it twice, and the experiences were so very different as to have happened to two different people. that's the difference between reaching the base with 15 miles under your belt in 63 degree weather, and arriving at the base after 90 significant miles in 95 degree weather.that climb beat me up.

however, I now have an exclusive, personalized cycling cap to prove I did it (they sneakily handed them out at the end of the ride . . . ), and I will always wear a little internal patch that says "warrior", right next to my amazingly resilient heart.

kudos to everyone else who finished that ride, and to everyone who rode as long as they could, whether they pedaled their bike all the way to snowbird or not.nothing ventured, nothing gained: every movement forward is a move in the right direction.

relax your gaze

repair work

Happy Biking!

somewhere in mid-south-central utah

city creek canyon

triumphant

lunar girl

ahh . . .

rainy day feeling

turbo, my guard dog

still smiling, almost halfway through the Big Ride

trapper's loop, august 17, 2008

drowned rat at brighton

august 9, 2008

welcome to the tao of cycling

you will find here the wisdom, humor, and observations my ever-busy mind create as I ride my bicycle around our beautiful state. I am blessed to live in a perfect environment for cycling, with a handful of canyons just minutes away from my door, and my desire is that you will travel with me through some of my incredible experiences.

the Male Ego

The other day I was coming down a canyon in my drop bars (two years ago I would have said, 'what's a drop bar?'), working hard, when I came up on two guys who were also heading downhill but at a more leisurely pace. I passed them, said hello as I did so, and pulled back into the bike lane. a few minutes later they went flying past me, faces looking dead ahead, not a single bit of acknowledgment that I even existed on this planet let alone was involved in and enjoying the same sport they were.I have to attribute this to the male ego. what else can it be? now I know we all have egos, myself included. and mine even shows its ridiculous little head once in a while, or perhaps more often. but the difference between mine and say, those of certain men on bicycles, is that I KNOW mine exists and I can LAUGH at mine. I know my ego was quite excited to pass those guys, and I could also smile because I knew if the men had really been working like I was, they would have kicked my butt down the hill. I think I pissed them off.and I'm sure I will be sharing with you much more of my thoughts about the male ego . . .

About Me

Born in the 1960's in Michigan, I have spent most of my life in Utah, for which I am grateful. In fact, my life is firmly rooted in gratitude, and my cycling brings that home to me every day I ride. I am a mom, a business owner, a student of yoga (oh so far to go!), a writer, a friend, and an avid roadie. and a million other things, as we all are . . .
I am a writer practicing her craft, and have committed to posting here regularly. happy reading, and
be well!

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a little history

I was married, and I had a mountain bike which I rarely rode. we separated, I moved out, and four months later someone stole my bike. the next spring, 2005, I bought myself a new mountain bike. I rode occasionally, and in april 2006 I rode in my first century, the Cactus Hugger in St. George, Utah. I made it 54 miles on that mountain bike, and it took me about 6 hours. I think that included the rest stops where I prayed that someone would steal my bike again . . .in june 2006 I started riding my mountain bike five mornings a week, a 45-55 minute loop that was intended to be all about exercise. and what I found was that I loved the quiet, peaceful morning full of bird chatter and barely breaking sunrises. by that fall I was hooked, and began considering the purchase of a road bike. I rode up emigration canyon for the first time that Labor Day of 2006, panting and plowing along on my trusty (heavy) bike, and a month later I was the proud owner of my own road bike: I had become a two-bike girl!a 17-week-long "power camp" over the winter and a handful of new friends kept bicycling front and center in my life, and when spring of 2007 rolled around I was ready to hit the pavement. I rode my first century the end of april, when I again went to St. George and completed that Cactus Hugger. it took me about 7 hours, but this time I rode the entire 100 miles with about 9300 feet of vertical gain. woo hoo!I started riding canyons around our area, emigration and millcreek, city creek, big cottonwood, little mountain and big mountain, and once--yes, only once--little cottonwood.then in september of 2007, I rode from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming, in the slightly infamous LOTOJA race. I rode, I did not race. and I completed the thing, crediting my good training buddies, the incredibly perfect weather, my support team, and an amazing convergence of all things positive in the universe.I put in about 3500 miles last season, and as of today, july 19, 2008, I have about 1700 in, adding to it every day.I have again signed on to ride the LOTOJA race, and my goal is to have just somewhere near as great a ride as I did last year. oh, and to have someone fun to talk with along the way as I got incredibly bored last year . . . star valley is still a nightmare scene in my biking memories . . .and here is a picture of the machine that has helped me reclaim my life.